“Mommy, why are you sleeping out here?” Megan’s anxious little face close to hers awakened Val. She raised herself on her elbows, pushed back her hair and tried to focus sleep-heavy eyes to look at the child peering down at her.
“I guess I just drifted off out here, honey.” Val sat up. She pulled herself to her feet, feeling cold and stiff, her neck aching from the awkward position in which she had finally fallen asleep. Slowly, the agonizing scene with Garth came back to her. Her mind felt fuzzy. What had she decided? Then she remembered. Nothing. It was all still a terrible unsolved muddle.
Megan skipped out to the kitchen area, calling back over her shoulder, “Are we going to the cove again today, Mommy? You said we could.”
Val heard the sound of the kitchen stool being moved, cabinet doors opening then slamming shut, the clatter of dishes and the rustle of dry cereal being poured into a bowl.
“Can I have cocoa for breakfast? I can make it myself.” The refrigerator door clicked and Megan’s voice continued. “Guess what, Mommy? Bonnie’s cat is going to have kittens and she said I could have one of them when they get bornded. Is that okay with you? I’d like a gray striped one like the mama cat. Except her four paws are white. That’s why they call her Boots.”
Val clenched her teeth. The sound of Megan’s sweet, high voice was grating on her pounding head. Her impulse was to beg Megan to play quietly with her dolls in her room for the morning, allow her to get some more sleep. But with the need to make a decision hanging over her, Val knew she probably couldn’t sleep anyway. Out in the kitchen, she groped in the cabinet over the sink for the bottle of aspirin and gulped down two while trying to oversee Megan measuring cocoa powder into a saucepan and adding milk from the carton without spilling it all over the counter.
“So can we, Mommy?” Megan persisted.
“Can we what, honey?”
“Go to our cove.”
“Oh, yes, I guess so.” Every nerve in Val’s body longed for peace and quiet to think, to plan, to come to some conclusion.
She made herself some strong coffee and sipped it standing at the window. The whole coast was a misty gray-green, but even as she watched, the thin veil lifted and a bright sun came out, revealing the long stretch of beach. It was going to be another beautiful day after all. Maybe it would be a good thing to be down at the cove.
Their cove was tucked between large, overhanging cliffs; a crescent of sandy beach curved from the dunes. The rocks formed natural tunnels that filled rapidly when the tide was coming in. This morning, the tide was out, leaving a wide margin of wet gray surface, perfect for sand-castle building. Driftwood and kelp were strewn on the beach swept up from the last high tide.
Val felt as though she was moving in slow motion as she staggered up over the dunes and got settled with the blanket spread out, the picnic basket and thermoses. By the time she had stretched out on her stomach, her chin on folded arms so that she could watch Megan, the little girl was already filling her bucket with water.
Val thought of the day before when all three of them had been down here together. Without Garth, something was definitely missing. What was she going to do? The things that had kept her awake most of the night now seemed to be slipping out of her grasp. She felt too weary to figure out anything. The scene at the prison when she’d visited Kevin rose up in vivid detail. She saw his face, twisted with bitterness, eyes shuttered with resentment, his whole body bristling with anger. Could he have changed? Really changed, as the chaplain indicated? Val shuddered even though the sun was prickling her back with hot needles.
Then she thought of Garth, of the wonderful future he was offering them. She squinted her eyes against the sun’s glare, looked down to the water’s edge where Megan squatted on the shoreline. Almost as if aware of her mother’s gaze, the little girl turned and waved. Val waved back. Megan loved Garth. He would be such a great father…Oh, dear God, how can I make the right choice? Any choice she made would hurt someone. Who had the most claim on her? Megan? Garth? Kevin?
The answer that came seemed to lead her—drag her—down a dead-end road she had traveled before. Back to a time of waiting, of being unable to see whatever was at the end of it. There was no guarantee that Kevin would be paroled even if she did stay with him. If she gave up a new life, with Garth, Kevin might still have to serve his entire sentence, and then what? She would have lost the chance for a kind of happiness she knew now she had always wanted but never imagined was possible. And she would have lost it for Megan, too.
The sun playing on the water was dazzlingly bright. Far out on the horizon, a freighter moved slowly. The surf swirled in foamy circles onto the sand with a measured rhythm. Val felt her eyelids grow heavier, droop. The need for sleep was almost overpowering. She glanced at Megan now industriously piling mounds of sand into a huge pyramid. Val blinked and stifled a yawn. The urge to close her eyes was irresistible. She put her head down on her folded arms, thinking it would be for just a minute.
Suddenly, she jerked her head up. Shivering, she sat up. The sun had shifted and she was now completely in shadow. The wind off the ocean was cool. Wide awake, she got to her knees, then stood. Megan was nowhere in sight. A jolt like an electric shock went through her when she saw the empty beach, saw Megan’s sand castle collapsing in the wake of the inrushing tide.
“Megan! Megan!” she shouted. But her voice was carried away by the roar of the waves. She ran forward, stumbling in the softer sand of the dunes, down to the beach where Megan was playing just a few minutes ago.
A few minutes? Had she been asleep for twenty minutes or more? Panic gripped her. Could Megan possibly have been swept out to sea? Had she been kneeling, her back to the ocean, been caught by a wave she didn’t see? Oh, dear God, Val silently screamed, I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her, not for one second.
She waded into the water, calling Megan’s name, the waves lapping around her calves, then her knees. Her child’s name became a frantic sob. “Oh, God, please, God, don’t let anything have happened to Megan…”
Just then from behind her, she heard, “Mommy, Mommy, here I am!”
Val whirled around, nearly losing her balance in the pull of the strong current. Then she saw her. Megan was standing on top of one of the rocks on the shelf of bluffs above the cove. How she had ever climbed up that far, Val didn’t know. But the fact was, she was there. Val ran through the surf, gesturing wildly, calling, “Megan, don’t! It’s too high up there. Come down.”
But Megan only waved and turned back, continuing to climb. With a sense of horror, Val realized the little girl couldn’t hear her. Megan was usually obedient. She wouldn’t have deliberately disobeyed her mother. She just didn’t know how dangerous the cliffs were. She had thought it was an adventure. Something out of Swiss Family Robinson, the abbreviated edition Garth was now illustrating and reading to Megan. She had been captivated by the daring exploits of the children of the shipwrecked family. That’s probably what was in her mind when she ventured up the steep slope. Val knew she didn’t realize that she would have to come down, the descent just as perilous as the climb had been.
Concentrating on trying to get Megan’s attention, Val was unaware of her own situation until she felt a pulling rush of water from under her feet, the sucking sensation of the waves on her bare legs. The tide was coming in fast. Just as this realization hit, a hard wave knocked her down and there was a swirl of sand and shells. Grappling for a foothold, she struggled to get back up but only half succeeded when another big wave struck.
Gasping for breath, Val tried to run into shore but was caught as the wave broke, hitting her hard and sending her down as the water rushed over her in a thundering crash. On her hands and knees now, she managed to crawl then stagger to her feet and make the shore before another incoming wave could wash over her. Her palms and knees were scraped by sharp pieces of shell. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Megan down safely and then getting away from the cove before the tide came in and cut off their escape.
At last she made it to the bottom of the cliff. Yelling at the top of her voice, she called again, “Megan, Megan, come down at once. The tide’s coming in. We’ve got to hurry and get out before we get caught.”
Megan turned with a look on her face that stopped Val from saying anything else.
“I can’t, Mommy!” she wailed.
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I’m scared. It’s too high. It’s too far down.”
Val bit her lip. Out of her own fear, she nearly said, You should have thought of that. Of course, she didn’t As slowly and calmly as she could manage, Val directed, “Stay right there. Don’t move. I’ll come get you.”
There was no time to argue, no time to hesitate. Soon the narrow channel leading to the other side of the beach would be filled with the churning ocean water sweeping in with the tide.
Chilled from her soaking and urged on by fear, Val ran over to their things and shoved her feet into her thongs. They weren’t climbing boots but would be better than trying to cover the rocks in her bare feet. She ran back to the foot of the cliff. She could hear Megan crying now. The little girl had realized her predicament. Val called up to her, “Don’t worry, honey. I’m coming, just hold on.”
Slowly, Val picked her way up the rocks, breaking a couple of fingernails as she grasped for handholds to pull herself up. Above, Megan’s crying got louder.
Val tried to soothe her. “Don’t move, Megan. I’m coming.” At last she reached the little girl and Megan flung herself on Val, nearly toppling them both. “Wait, honey, we’re going to have to go piggyback. That’s the only way Mommy can climb down and carry you.”
Val swiveled, holding on to Megan until the little girl was positioned on her back, her legs straddling Val’s waist, her arms in a strangling grip around Val’s shoulders and neck.
“You’re choking me, honey!” Val pleaded at one point. But Megan’s clasp didn’t loosen. The child was too frightened. Somehow, Val never knew how, they inched their way down the cliff. The feel of sand on her feet was welcome. She set Megan down gently and looked around. The waves were higher and coming in with increasing speed. “Come on, Megan, we’ve got to make a run for it. Grab everything you can. Then let’s go.”
The water was getting deep as they waded through the arch formed by the gigantic boulders that served as the entrance to the cove. Val held tight to Megan’s hand with her one hand, carrying their picnic basket in the other, the blanket over her arm. Megan was carrying one of the thermoses, but as the waves churned under their feet, she dropped it and it disappeared in the waves. “It doesn’t matter,” Val told her, pulling her along.
At last they reached the beach on the other side, and with a safe expanse of sand between them and the incoming tide, Val stopped to catch her breath, and reassemble their belongings. Megan was shivering violently. Her lips were blue. Val wrapped the blanket around her, but it was damp and didn’t give her much warmth.
“Come on, darling, we’ll have to hurry and get home. We’ll pop you in a warm bath right away or you’ll catch a terrible cold. Try to run, okay?”
Just as they were struggling up the last few feet of the dunes in front of the cottage, Megan tugged on Val’s hand and said plaintively, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
Val’s heart melted. “It’s okay, darling, we’ve both learned a lesson. Once you’ve had a bath and some hot chocolate, we’ll both feel better.”
A half hour later, Megan was bundled up in front of the stove, both hands clutching a mug of creamy cocoa. It was only then Val realized she was still in her wet bathing suit, her hair dripping. The supply in their small hot water tank had nearly run out by the time she got into the tub herself, and instead of warming her, the tepid water chilled her more.
No matter what she tried—cups of steaming tea, changing into a warm sweater, wool slacks—Val couldn’t seem to get warm. Along with the outer shivering, an inner trembling began. It was the belated realization of the danger both Megan and she had been in that day.
She was still cold, yet feverish, when late in the afternoon, Garth showed up. When she told him what had happened, he frowned. “You mean you think Megan didn’t hear you at first?”
“I called and called, then when she realized where she was, she turned and looked down. That’s when she saw me. I’m not sure she heard me before then.”
“Do you think her deafness is getting worse? I thought I noticed it, too, but I wasn’t sure. Her not hearing you could be dangerous. More dangerous than today.” Garth’s frown deepened. “Maybe we should make an appointment with a specialist, have her checked. Possibly some kind of hearing aid would help.”
Val’s heart turned over. Garth had said “we” as if it was both their responsibility. Garth was so dear, so concerned. His love for Megan was apparent She covered his hand with her own. “Yes, maybe we should. I feel so guilty. I should never have gone to sleep. Taken my eyes off her.”
“It’s all this unnecessary tension—that letter, all of it has upset you. You’re not yourself. Not thinking straight No wonder…” His mouth grew grimly tight. Val knew he was suppressing a lot of what he was feeling, thinking.
She was now beginning to feel too ill to talk about what was foremost in both their minds. It would be no use to go into it any further tonight. Although she protested she’d be all right, Garth insisted she go to bed. He would take care of Megan, feed her supper, read to her and tuck her in, which Megan was delighted to hear. Gratefully, Val agreed and left them to go to bed.
She woke in the middle of the night aching in every bone, with a throbbing head and a heaviness in her chest. The next morning when Garth arrived to check on them, she could only speak in a hoarse whisper. There was no question but that she should remain in bed. Garth took over. He brought lemons, vitamin C tablets and chicken broth. Then he took Megan to school. He also called Val’s manager at the hardware store, where she had resumed her job from last winter, and told him that Val was ill and unable to come to work. He reappeared every hour or so and Val was only vaguely aware of his coming and going. She slept deeply, grateful that Garth was in charge, glad to relinquish Megan’s care to him, too weak to feel any guilt.
Two days later, Val woke up clearheaded and rested. She heard the sound of movement in the kitchen area and Megan’s and Garth’s voices. Soon Garth appeared at her bedroom door with a tray. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He grinned. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks to you. I think I might live.” Val sat up, pushed her pillow behind her back. “How can I ever repay you for this, Garth? It was beyond the call of duty or friendship or anything.” She shook her head. “You were wonderful taking care of me and Megan like this.”
“Don’t you know that’s what I want to do? Keep on doing? Taking care of you and Megan for the rest of our lives?”
His words brought back the fact of the letter from the prison chaplain. The one that had brought about their crisis before she became ill. Now, as their eyes met in a loving gaze, Val remembered. She drew back the hand she had held out to Garth.
His smile faded as if he knew what had happened. He set down the tray on her lap, then drew an envelope out of his shirt pocket and laid it alongside her cup and saucer. “This came in yesterday’s mail.”
Val glanced at the return address and recognized the handwriting. It was Kevin’s. She looked up at Garth.
“I’ll take Megan to school. Give you a chance to read this in private. When I get back, we can talk.”
The little house seemed unnaturally still after they left. Or maybe Val’s heart was pounding so loudly so that it silenced every other sound. Blocked everything out while she opened Kevin’s letter.
It was written in his familiar style. Staccato sentences, lots of dashes.
Dear Val,
I’m not sure I’ll have the guts to mail this when I finish writing it—not after all I’ve done and put you through—but the chaplain and the prison shrink both think it will be therapeutic for me to do this—and who am I to argue with them?
I understand the chaplain has been in touch with you over the past year and he thinks you may be willing to forgive and forget. I don’t know if this is true or not—I wouldn’t blame you if it isn’t. But I’ve always been one to take a risk. So I guess that’s what this letter is—a gamble.
I’ve been going to the group encounter sessions. They’re pretty rough. Nobody lets you get away with anything. Everyone says what they think. The counselor who leads the group says the seeds of how we turn out are sown early in our lives, the reasons why we act like we do, do the things that get us in here. Not that I’m like most of the other guys. My childhood wasn’t rougher than some of theirs. I had a lot going for me at one time. I just got off track somewhere. It might have all worked out But that’s another story.
The real point of this letter is to tell you I do care about you and Megan—whatever I might have said—whatever you might have been led to believe.
I want you to know I’m not counting on anything—and I’m not holding you to anything. I know you didn’t sign the divorce papers even though I thought that’s what I wanted you to do, told you to do. The chaplain says that means something—does it, Val? Maybe things could work out for us if I get released early, get a parole—the chaplain says there’s a good chance of that. First offense—no prior record—I’m turning into a model prisoner. How about that? The point is that an inmate who toes the line—follows the rules—that’s considered good conduct in here.
The big thing is if a man has a stable home life on the outside, there’s a real chance for rehabilitation—that he won’t repeat the offense he’s serving time for. That kind of guy is much more likely to get a parole. These prisons are overcrowded with real criminals—they’d like to get rid of some of the ones who are not a danger to society. Anyway, if you still have any love left in your heart for me, we could start over and be together as a family again—I’m hoping this is how it is. It’s up to you, Val. I won’t blame you if you’ve had it but I thought you’d want to know I’ve changed my mind—about a lot of things. Well, I guess that’s all for now.
Yours ever,
Kevin
Val let the letter drop out of limp hands, leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. The man who had written this letter was a new Kevin. Kevin was never the kind to look at himself, to examine his motives or explain his actions. Reading this letter, Val thought of how hopeless she’d sometimes felt in their marriage. How she could rarely express her real feelings. She recalled all the hurts and misunderstandings, the times she’d been filled with resentment, angered by Kevin’s indifference toward her or Megan. Now he was bringing into the open some of the things they’d never talked about. Why had it taken this terrible experience to make him see reality?
Val knew the letter had at least accomplished one thing. It had brought her to a decision. She had to go and see Kevin again. See this new Kevin. Judge for herself if this was for real. Maybe discover what she could not read between the scrawled lines of this letter.
Time had not blotted out hurtful memories, all she had been forced to face, handle, manage on her own. It had been nearly two years. If Kevin had changed, so had she. They were no longer the same two people they had been. The question was, how much had they changed? Were there now irreconcilable differences—as the divorce petition stated—for them to be together ever again?
Val had to find out. Before she made any other decision. She would have to see Kevin. The only thing she dreaded was telling Garth.